Within the Rights
by glassamilk
Summary: Denmark has a crappy day and just wants to come home and relax. Norway indulges him. Kink-meme fill.


When the door slams at a quarter to midnight and is not immediately followed by an obnoxiously boisterous greeting, Norway can instantly sense that something is amiss. He listens to the sharp clinking of keys being tossed on the counter followed by the deadbolt lock sliding shut before he carefully shuts his book and sets it on the coffee table and gets up to make his way to the hall, leaning against the doorway to watch as Denmark struggles to get his dress shoes untied.

"You're late," he says blandly. "I was about to call and see where you were at."

Denmark gives the laces of his shoes a frustrated tug, the knot refusing to come undone. "You know where I was," he says, equally as deadpan. He finally manages to get the first shoe off and starts on the second.

Norway quirks an eyebrow, frowning. "I didn't think you'd be there this late."

"Neither did I."

Denmark gives up on unlacing the shoe and settles for just forcing it off of his foot, kicking it away unceremoniously to sit beside it's twin. He straightens up and pulls the knot of his tie down, giving Norway a quick peck on the cheek as he pushes past him to get into the next room. Norway's frown deepens and he follows him.

"We were supposed to get dinner tonight," he says. He truthfully isn't that worried about missing one date; they have been together for far too long for him to stress the small things anymore, but the Dane's odd behavior is bothering him. "What happened?"

Denmark sinks down onto the couch and scrubs a hand through his hair, fixing a tired gaze on Norway. "Nothing happened," he slumps back, kneading at his temples. "Which is exactly the problem."

Norway sighs and sits down beside him. "I don't suppose I even need to ask how the climate conference is going then."

Denmark shakes his head, sliding sideways until his shoulders knock into Norway's and sighs heavily. "Terribly. It's going terribly. All everyone is doing is yelling at each other and pointing fingers and disagreeing. There was so much arguing today, we went into overtime and argued some more. I've been running messages between diplomats, breaking up fights, forcing clothes on France, and trying to keep track of Canada since nine this morning. I've been on my feet all day." He closes his eyes and grimaces, roughly swirling his thumbs over either side of his forehead. "Cooperation is at a standstill and nothing is getting done and everyone is blaming me for it. I would have much rather been getting dinner, trust me, but I spent the last two hours getting chewed out by my boss about how I'm not doing enough."

Norway shifts closer to him and rests a hand on his knee. "They can't blame you for it. You're more willing to cooperate than anyone when it comes to this."

Denmark shakes his head. "I'm hosting. Anything that goes wrong is immediately my fault." He groans and rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. "God, I've got such a fucking headache."

Without missing a beat, Norway slips an arm around the larger man's shoulders and gently tugs him down to lay in his lap, bringing his hands forward to rest on either side of his face. "You're doing a great job," he says quietly. He carefully brushes his hands through Denmark's soft hair, gingerly cupping the back of his head and rubbing his index and middle fingers in slow circles against his temples, thumbs miming the action on his scalp. "They can't place all of the blame on your shoulders."

Denmark allows his eyes to fall shut and exhales slowly, leaning into Norway's touch. "It's just such a drain on my resources, especially with how little progress we're actually making. It's exhausting."

Norway nods and firmly slides his hands down Denmark's neck. "I know it is. You just have to make it until the end of the week." He sweeps his fingers back up to place gentle pressure behind the Dane's ears. "Negotiations will have to start eventually. You just have to let them fight it out for a bit."

Denmark makes a face and turns his head to one side to give Norway better access to crook of his tense shoulder. "I hate wasting time," he grumbles.

Norway smoothes Denmark's hair back. "Only when it's important," he leans down and kisses his forehead. "Have you eaten at all?"

Denmark shakes his head. "Not since noon."

Ignoring the Dane's groan of protest when Norway sits up, he pats the other man's shoulder and stands. "I'll put something from yesterday in the oven to heat up." He bends down and presses a chaste smooch to Denmark's ear. "Go run a bath. I'll meet you upstairs."

Denmark stares up at him from the couch. "You're being unusually affectionate," he smirks. "What's the occasion?"

Norway rolls his eyes and helps him to his feet, pushing him in the direction of the stairs. "I'm not allowed to be nice?" He follows him as far as the hallway. "You had a bad day; I'm well within my right to be understanding of that. And besides…" he playfully swats Denmark's rear as he begins to go up the stairs. "I like it when you're progressive."

"I'll try to work in something about wind farms next time I talk dirty to you," Denmark laughs from the landing, his voice trailing behind him as he makes his way to the bathroom.

Norway shakes his head and goes to the kitchen, preheating the oven before moving to the refrigerator and grabbing the glass dish containing last night's lasagna from the back. He pulls the plastic lid off and replaces it with a layer of foil, pinching the edges just as the oven beeps and he carefully slides the dish inside and sets the timer before he switches the overhead light off and heads up stairs.

He doesn't bother knocking and is honestly surprised when he enters the bathroom and finds Denmark still completely clothed, bent over the sink and brushing his teeth. Behind him, the eco-friendly tap of their bathtub is on full blast, filling the deep tub with steaming hot water and the Dane has taken the liberty of laying out fresh towels. Norway shakes his head and closes the door.

"I can't even trust you to run the bath," he sighs lightly. He smirks at Denmark's dramatic, toothpaste filled pout and reaches across him to grab a jar from the medicine cabinet. He unscrews the cap and presents the container to the bewildered Dane. "Bath salt," he explains. "Of the lavender, foaming variety." He shakes a handful of the fragrant granules out into the water and immediately the bathroom begins to fill with the flowery scent.

Denmark spits into the sink and laughs. "You're such a girl, Norge."

Norway rolls his eyes again and strips off his shirt. "You'll thank me for it later."

He waits until Denmark finishes rinsing his mouth before he closes the space between them and slides his small hands up the Dane's shirt, easily unbuttoning it as he goes, and unlaces his tie when he reaches the collar. "I put the lasagna from last night in the oven," he says as he slips the Dane's shirt off and tosses it into the hamper. He drops his hand and smoothly undoes Denmark's belt. "It should be done in about half an hour."

Denmark settles a hand on Norway's lower back, grinning when the smaller man pulls his belt off and starts to work on his own. "I hope you don't have any ulterior motives," he says as they both slip out of their pants. "Because seriously, I'm completely wiped."

Norway grabs his wrist and pulls him to the bathtub, stepping into the bubbly water and beckoning for him to do the same. "No ulterior motives," he says as Denmark joins him, sinking into the sweet scented foam and sighing deeply. Norway twists the tap off and slides in behind Denmark until the larger man's back is flush with his chest. He bows his head and gently mouths at his neck. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

He pulls back and grabs the large, purple bath puff from the shower rack and dunks it into the water, shifting slightly so that he can wring it out over Denmark's shoulders. "So has any progress been made at all?" He asks. "I can't imagine that everyone was just bickering the entire time." He gently begins to scrub at Denmark's back, working the soapy water into a soft lather.

"No, that's about it," Denmark sighs, slumping forward loosely. "China and England were at each others throats pretty much all day. America seems like he's trying, but most of the propositions he brought might as well just be directions for Japan's model gundams. You'll see when you have to come in tomorrow." He groans lowly in the back of his throat when Norway replaces the loofa with his hands and begins to stroke his fingers down the Dane's spine, eliciting a crop of goose bumps across the larger man's shoulders. "God, that feels so good. My back was killing me."

Norway smiles to himself and pushes his palms into Denmark's lower back. "I could tell."

"You could?"

"You were walking with your hands in your pockets," he says simply. "You always walk with your hands in your pockets when your back hurts." He moves his hands up and starts to knead the other man's shoulders.

Denmark sighs deeply and leans back against Norway, allowing the other to slide his arms around his waist and rest his chin on the Dane's wet shoulder. "What about you?" He asks as the Norwegian runs his hands slowly up and down his chest. "You had today off, right?"

Norway nods. "I spent most of today starting a new novel and getting my things ready for tomorrow." He cranes his neck around and kisses Denmark's cheek. "And I assure you, my proposition contains no giant robots."

"Thank God."

Norway tucks a rogue strand of the Dane's hair behind his ear. "I need to go pull the lasagna out in a minute,"

Denmark nods and sits up. "I'll go get changed and be down in a minute to set the table."

Norway catches his hand and shakes his head. "Why don't I just bring it up to the bedroom tonight?"

Denmark's eyebrows go up. "You want to eat in the bedroom?"

"Sure. We can watch a movie or something."

"All right, that does it," Denmark stands up, planting his hands on his soapy hips. "Who are you and what have you done with my Norge?"

Norway pulls the plug on the drain and stands up as well, throwing a towel at the Dane. "Oh, shut up. Just go get into your pajamas and put a movie on."

Denmark laughs and wraps the towel around his waist. "If you insist," he hums. He hands Norway his bathrobe. "Do you care what I put on?"

Norway quickly towels off and slips into the robe. "No, put in whatever you want."

Denmark flashes him a thumbs up before exiting the bathroom and padding down the hall to their bedroom. Norway rinses the remaining foam out of the tub and hangs up his towel, pocketing a bottle of ibuprofen before flipping the bathroom light off and returning to the kitchen, where the timer has just started to beep. He cracks open the oven and checks the lasagna. Plenty warm, he pulls it out and sets it on the stove top to settle for moment, filling two glasses with cold water and placing them on a breakfast tray with two empty plates while he waits. After dishing out portions for himself and Denmark, he rewraps the dish and replaces it back in the fridge.

When he returns upstairs, carefully carrying the tray, Denmark is just sliding into bed and fiddling with the remote. Norway sits down beside him and sets the tray down, fixing a bemused stare on Denmark when the movie starts.

"Thumbelina?"

Denmark points the remote at him. "Hey, no comments from the peanut gallery. You said I could put on anything." He leans back and crosses his arms over his bare chest, huffing. "And besides, I love this movie. And so do you, don't even pretend you don't."

Norway smiles and tugs the covers over his knees before he pulls the tray into his lap and hands a glass of water to Denmark, followed by two ibuprofen tablets. "I'm not complaining," he says lightly, watching the Dane throw back the pills. "You and your fairytales just never fail to amuse me."

Denmark rolls his eyes, but smiles and takes the plate of lasagna Norway offers him.

They eat in an easy silence, alternating between watching the movie and griping about the conference until their plates are empty and Denmark is curled up under the blankets with his head in Norway's lap, the Norwegian absently stroking his hair as Prince Cornelius assures Thumbelina that he will be her wings. It's well past midnight by the time the movie ends and Norway leans over to switch the lamp off. Denmark makes a sleepy noise of displeasure when Norway shifts his legs to lie down, disturbing the Dane from his dozing as he does, and sloppily drops an arm around the smaller man's waist, tucking his head into the crook of Norway's neck.

Once they have resettled, legs and arms tangled together beneath the blankets, Denmark presses a light kiss to Norway's lips. "Thanks, Norge," he mumbles blearily, voice thick with sleep. "I really appreciate it. And you."

Norway sighs deeply and returns the kiss with just as much sleepy gentleness. "Don't mention it." He smirks into the darkness and runs a teasing finger down the Dane's chest. "You can pay me back by telling me all about your 'wind farms' tomorrow."

Denmark chuckles lowly and draws him in closer, hugging him tightly.

"You got it."

-THE END-


End file.
